


And when all hope is gone, I'm here

by lostinfictionalworlds



Category: Glee
Genre: Angel!Blaine, M/M, afterlife!klaine, kurtblainereversebang2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinfictionalworlds/pseuds/lostinfictionalworlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Kurt/Blaine reversebang 2015. AU- In a world where the afterlife still live among and alongside the living, most of the departed sprout their wings and become After Life Angels, a very prestigious, inspiring race. However this leaves the smaller percentage of those passed over as the After Life Keepers, a less respected and appreciated race, left to watch over the angels. Or so Kurt Hummel believes. </p><p>Kurt had always known that when it was his time to pass, he would be one of the most compassionate, best-dressed inspirational angels of them all. Unfortunately the fates decided differently, but can a certain angel help Kurt find happiness and a purpose again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	And when all hope is gone, I'm here

***Edited due to posting errors and issues.**

 

Based on this [artwork](http://fictionallylost.tumblr.com/post/121655498347/artist-frumiousme-fic-title-and-when-all-hope-is) by Frumiousme. Big thank you to my lovely beta VoyageHK/VoyageAsia for your friendship and support.

*

“To the left. Angels to the left, please and thank you.” Kurt tries not to sound too condescending as he points his blunt bladed staff to the side, directing a long line of kids all with large, bird like feathery wings of different shades of white, size and variety flicking majestically this way and that.

The hallways of the school are clearly signposted, but for some reason the angels don’t think they have to pay any mind to the rules or direction. Well there is a reason; they see themselves as the top of the food chain. All schools in the district are now by law a place of equal opportunity and diversity, where angels and humans can roam freely among each other without segregation.

The signposts and keeping the angels to one side is just a safety precaution, to ensure no accidents of curious wandering hands or flying spitballs. Wings are very hard to maintain as it is.

The angel classes are mostly made up of psyche and counseling where they’ll learn how to care for and mentor their assigned humans when the time comes to it. Biology to understand the difference between the angel body and mind verses the human’s, and there’s even a small, well-equipped gym specializing in wing strength and training. Angels are typically encouraged not to fly, as their wings are not very well designed for that purpose, and honestly they don’t need to. However it’s not a law and the gym classes are useful for a basic guide to flying, how and when to and not to - if some of the very pretentious angels ever feel the need to spread their wings and take flight.

The bell rings with a loud shrill from up in the built surround sound system, signaling that recess is over and fourth period has started. Kurt lets out an audible sigh of relief, though it’s not necessary, and sags against the wall as the last door to a busy, noisy classroom is closed.

He gives it a moment, then pushes himself up and away from the wall and over to the After Life Keeper’s lounge situated down the hall. Once inside he deposits his wooden and steel staff into one of the safety stands and heads into the men’s rest room. He doesn’t need to use the bathroom of course. The afterlife has no need for eating or drinking and therefore has nothing to discharge. Simply going into the bathroom and staring mindlessly into the stainless steel rimmed mirror above the sink, is something Kurt chooses to do. To give him a reason to feel normal, as mundane as it is.

He sighs, like always, as he lightly traces a fingertip over the defined bone structure of his face. Once Kurt had hit puberty he’d really grown into his skin and features. Thankfully that was before the accident and he’s been able to keep his good looks forever more. He’s not exactly a skeleton now; though that’s what people call the keepers, it’s not true. Kurt’s body is long and lean, strong built, chiseled and defined with creamy, smooth pale skin; it’s just that, the keepers’ faces form into a slightly transparent skeletal mask, just like the angels grow their wings. It’s their identity.

Kurt always has and always will be handsome and somewhat ethereal to look at, he’s other worldly magnificent. With bright ocean patterned eyes that can swirl into a clouded gray and chestnut, bronzed hair, which he styles up and flicks out effortlessly. He still dresses impeccably well too, even if he now chooses to stick to a white, black or gray color pallet. With every accessory and pair of shoes carefully chosen and matched to perfection, there’s no one telling him what to wear no matter whom or what he is now.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Kurt’s face fades and floats in and out of this somewhat spooky guise, as well as him being made to carry a god damned slate gray staff with a false blade around, then Kurt fully believes that people would tell him how good he looks. They would approach and talk to him and maybe even touch him to prove that’s he’s not pure, stone cold and hard as rock.

He’s still himself; he’s still who he was. People couldn’t accept him then and they may not choose to accept him now. Well fine, it’s no skin off his nose. It’s just that, he does wish that people would try, would try to see him for who he really is. He may even make a friend. Or maybe even more.

After thoroughly inspecting himself in the mirror, hopelessly realizing once again that there will be no imminent changes, Kurt washes his hands, just to relax under the tickling feeling of the cool liquid trickling over his skin. He dries off and then goes to take his seat in the lounge, alongside all the other keepers, just sitting, mindlessly waiting.

Waiting to be called upon, to be told what to do next. Waiting for their so called _purpose_.

Everybody knows, it’s been made common knowledge and a certified law that the angels are put back on the earth to take care of the humans that they left behind. That’s their role, to guide them through life, to oversee them through troubled times. They need these classes to educate themselves and gain experience. Angels

automatically gain some sort of celebrity like status once they’re sent back to earth after passing. Like they’re cherished and can do no wrong, everyone must listen to them and worship them. Having an angel assigned to you as a human is seen as a blessing of one of the highest forms.

The after life keepers’ primary roles are to take care of the angels, to steer them out of uncharted territory and make sure they’re doing their duties. Kind of like a glorified babysitter, if you will. Having an angel assigned to you is a pretty big deal; it only happens once and not all keepers are given the opportunity. It’s not known how it is decided who is assigned this special role, or even how it is decided who becomes what after a human passes over to afterlife, but is often assumed to be an arbitral process. One that is seldom questioned or discussed.

Becoming an After Life Keeper had not been on Kurt Hummel’s list of number one things to do. That’s for sure.

To be honest, tragically losing his life at the tender age of eighteen during a road accident had most certainly not been something he had been expecting either. Though he had hoped that if and when his time to pass would come, his fate would be chosen accordingly. He’d already sewn some well designed, pretty fabulous outfits perfect to accommodate a pair of wings, sprung from the dint between his shoulder blades.

But no, Kurt had to be different didn’t he? Of course he did. He always has.

Nothing much changes when you pass over to the afterlife apart from the initial, obvious changes when it’s decided whether you’re an angel or a keeper, through the afterlife council. The inner workings of the afterlife council’s decisions is kept from public view.

Kurt still gets to live at home with his dad; he still has his room and his stuff, though he may not be able to complete his favorite moisturizing routine anymore without aggravating his now sensitive, hollowed cheekbones and jaw structure.

Kurt misses being able to help out in his dad’s garage, but at least he’s still able to see him and talk to him. Being reunited with his dad is maybe the only reason why Kurt sticks out this messed up chance of a second life. He misses performing. He misses sewing and cooking and sorting his brooch collection. He misses his life. He has no need for any of that now, nor the time.

Kurt had spent most of his high school years taunted and bullied, name called and pushed into lockers and trashcans, all for being different. All for not being afraid of being himself. And now to his utter dismay he has to spend the rest of his eternal other life, playing hall monitor and a shoulder to cry on to the kids who were lucky enough to make it to angel status. How is that at all fair?

Kurt’s key duty is to oversee the angel kids in and around the school. Who is or isn’t adapting well to life on the other side? Are they managing their wings and treating them well? Can they care for the humans appropriately? The usual boring, counseling of the precious angels.

“You-you going to the meeting tonight?” Kurt snaps out of his thoughts and looks over to his near right, toward one of the other keepers who looks as bored as he feels, also mindlessly staring and daydreaming into the dull, dim lighted lounge.

There’s an ALK’s group meeting once a month, where all of the keepers come together and discuss any issues or important matters regarding the angels. New angels are registered and often assigned their human and who their keeper will be for when the time comes to it. On rare occasions Angels can be given more than one human; it’s known in special cases such as dear friends, relatives or two people who are genuine soul mates. But once a pairing between an angel and keeper is made, it sticks.

Kurt shrugs. “I guess so, we don’t really have a choice do we?”

The other keeper shrugs, then turns to gaze out of the small box window situated up in the far corner. “I guess not. But we might get chosen to have an angel of our own tonight. You know, get the chance to get out of this place and have something real and meaningful and cool to do.”

The other keeper looks genuinely optimistic and Kurt feels sorry for him. _Yeah_ , Kurt thinks. _Something real and cool to do. How lucky for us._

*

“Hey bud, how was tonight’s meet...” Burt Hummel calls out from his kitchen, not even getting the chance to finish his question, as the front door out in the hallway he heard open just seconds ago is slammed shut followed by a thunder of footsteps leading down to Kurt’s basement bedroom. A bedroom without a bed, that is.

Burt sighs heavily and lowers his head as he continues stirring his microwave meal for one. He misses cooking with his son; he misses the untimely dance around the kitchen as Kurt pushes him around and prods at him with utensils, moaning at him about organic ingredients and fewer calories. There’s nothing to say that they still can’t do that, just because Kurt doesn’t eat now doesn’t mean that he can’t still help his dad prepare his healthy dinners.

But Kurt chooses not to. He doesn’t see the point, not anymore. Kurt had always been a very wise, self-opinionated little boy, and growing older, passing over and then becoming a keeper had only really strengthened that.

In his head Kurt has his own rules, his own ideas of what should and shouldn’t be; he doesn’t want to listen to anyone or any rule or single thing that states otherwise. And Burt firmly believes that if his son had been given the role of angel, then those thoughts wouldn’t change, but they would certainly be more positive and self- appreciating than the ones Kurt has these days.

Kurt has always considered himself high up on the pecking order, turning his nose up at anybody he feels unworthy of his time or presence. It’s always been a self- preservation thing for him, Burt thinks, he _knows._ A mechanism of self defense so to speak. It’s funny that all it took was to give the boy a slightly different appearance

and a wooden stick to hold to bring him down a peg or two, to flip him over to a totally different scale.

The tantrums, the stomping down the stairs, the silent treatments, this is nothing new for Burt, this is his son now; this is his life, _their life._ This is how it is.

*

“That bad huh?” Burt has crept down the steps and now stands in the open doorway of Kurt’s room, watching as Kurt paces the length of his hardwood floors and back, his staff dragging behind him held limply in his hand, and even though the blade is blunt, it’s still causing the most awful screeching sound along the floor.

There’s no bed anymore, no need for one. In its place is now a soft, light gray, striped fabric chaise longue, situated in the corner, its pattern matching the muted gray of the painted walls. This is just somewhere for Kurt to sit and think, to reflect, to wallow.

Kurt doesn’t answer his dad, doesn’t even look up; he just keeps his eyes glued to the floor beneath his doc martin boots, watching the blade scrape its way over the floor boards.

“Could you stop doing that please?” Burt asks politely, keeping his voice even as he steps further into Kurt’s room and seats himself on the edge of his old sewing desk pushed up against the back wall. The machine sits lifelessly, covered up in plastic and pushed to the back of the desk, with swatches and samples discarded and left lying around it. A life, left and unfinished.

Kurt huffs a deep breath, it’s more habit now than anything. He silently allows the staff to fall from his fingertips and hit the floorboards with a gentle thud, while his father watches carefully.

“If that leaves a scratch, you’re paying for that, you know.” Burt says, knowing that Kurt knows that he’s kidding. It won’t even make a dint, and Burt hasn’t taken anything from Kurt his whole life.

He doesn’t even get a smile. Burt rubs at his forehead. “Kurt?”

“I got one.” Kurt finally says, his voice small, gentle and quiet, his tone sad and his eyes dull and shimmering to match as they lift to search his dad’s face. “I got an angel. To look after, or whatever.”

Burt exhales. “That’s good, it’s great isn’t it? You’re not hall monitor anymore or whatever, you can get out of that school and-”

“The angel-he’s still in school. I’d have to stay with him.”

“Oh.” Burt exhales harder. “Well that’s different, I guess. But it won’t be for long right? Angels only study for what five-six terms?”

“He’s new, inexperienced. Hasn’t even been assigned a human yet. I don’t even know why he needs a keeper yet. Why me?”

“Kurt, I don’t know what you want me to say to you kid. There’s obviously a reason for this, did you stay to find out? Did you ask?”

“He’s in Glee club.” Kurt replies, words trailing out of his mouth from his own line of thought, not even listening to his father. “Apparently he’s allowed to perform. They use him in show choir competitions because he’s different, because he’s got that edge.” Kurt waves a hand in the air, in a very sarcastic gesture. “Formalities.”

Burt furrows his brow, his body tensing, preparing for what’s to come. He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Why not me dad?” Kurt all but yells, his irises now a deep gray, burning as he stares into thin air. “ _I’m_ different. _I’m_ edgy. I was even before I freaking died...”

“Now Kurt, just calm...”

“What is it with these crazy rules Dad? Why can’t keepers still do normal stuff and join in clubs and have classes too? What makes us so low on the moral, popularity food chain that we’re not good enough?”

“Kurt you know that’s not true...”

“Well then what is it Dad huh? Why are we even here if we can’t do anything that we want? Weren’t we just better of dead?”

“Kurt! Now come on. Don’t you ever say that. You keepers are just as special. I need you here whatever you are. You know that you can...”

“Don’t give me that Dad. They can fill me with all that crap but I expect better from you.”

He knows he’s overstepping the boundaries but as usual Kurt doesn’t want to hear whatever anybody has to tell him. And with that Kurt disappears into thin air, his form dissipating into nothing but a whirl of fine gray smoke spiraling upwards toward the ceiling until there’s nothing left but Burt standing and staring at the space where his son once was.

*

Transparent transportation or TT, as it’s sometimes shortened to within the keeper community, isn’t illegal. It’s the only somewhat ‘magical’ skill that keepers have, it’s just frowned upon when in public. It’s apparently impolite and rude or something. Figures.

It’s OK for angels to flutter and ruffle their wings in public, because some of the smaller feathers shed everywhere like a molting dog. Some angels decide to craft a

shiny, golden halo-headband to wear like some sort of specialized uniform. But no, keepers can’t use the one cool, useful gift they have. Typical.

Burt agrees that the keepers should be allowed to use TT whenever they need to, it’s a way for them to retreat, to find solitude somewhere else. But he certainly doesn’t allow it under his roof, especially during a somewhat important conversation.

Kurt knows he’ll be in trouble when he returns home, but he couldn’t help it. He just needed to get away, he needed to get the words out of his system and not have to hear any back in return. He knows it was unfair to treat his dad that way; it’s not his fault that Kurt is in this position. He’ll apologize when he gets home, he always does. And his dad, because he is so awesome and deserves a thousand father of the year awards, always understands and forgives him instantly.

Kurt exhales and then inhales, a large gulp of fresh late night air that his body doesn’t require, as he looks out across the empty park. Kurt comes here most nights now, to this place, perched on a sturdy branch up in an old oak tree.

He usually disappears in the still of the night when his father is sleeping soundly, blissfully unaware, something that Kurt could never do again. Kurt needs somewhere to go, to calm his thoughts, to still his body and mind even if he no longer uses up any energy to do so.

A short vibrating buzz comes from deep within Kurt’s pants pocket. Though there isn’t much use of a cell phone for him now, keepers are still expected to carry one at all times. They need to be contactable and reachable, easy to find. His father also feels better knowing that he can get in touch with his son whenever he needs to.

Kurt digs the small black phone out, scooping it into the palm of his hand. He suspects that it may be notifying him of a message from his dad, something scolding and guilt worthy.

What he doesn’t expect it to be is a message from his newly assigned angel.

 **Unknown sender:**  
Um Kurt? Hi this is Blaine Anderson. (your angel)  
(...well not your angel- but you know- oh never mind. Sorry.)  
I just wanted to drop you a text to say hi. So Hi. This is me, and I guess I’ll meet you at school tomorrow right? OK great. Um bye x

**Sorry you didn’t need that kiss. Inappropriate. Sorry. Goodnight.**

Kurt reads the text message over and over, giggling in places and gaping dumbfounded at others.

For the first time since Kurt had been handed his staff and branded an ALK, he actually starts to get the tiny beginning of a feeling that being in this afterlife, having this role and this purpose, maybe isn’t all that bad after all.

Maybe not all angels are stuck up, arrogant assholes. And now, apparently Kurt isn’t the only seemingly genuine weirdo out there.

Now there’s appears to be a Blaine. A Blaine Angel.

*

The first time that Kurt meets Blaine is what some may call funny and sweet and what others may call disastrous. Kurt agrees with the latter. It’s highly humiliating and completely strange, and Kurt certainly does not need to add to his list of those things.

Blaine somehow finds Kurt loitering around one of the school hallways between classes and bounds over to him like an excited puppy, after recognizing Kurt’s face from the tiny thumbnail clipped to his paperwork Blaine had been given.

Kurt notices a bright faced kid skipping towards him and gathers that it has got to be Blaine. Nobody else in this school would seem that happy and excited to see him, nobody with a pair of wings anyway. With his dark hair slicked back (thankfully no halo) and bright hazel eyes positively shining, Kurt can’t help but gape at him. He takes in Blaine’s cream, linen pants, baby blue polo t-shirt with a cute little bowtie wrapped around his neck to match, and his wide, toothy, dazzling grin.

Unfortunately Kurt notices him about three seconds too late before Blaine’s suddenly, literally falling into him. And Kurt thought that the angels falling from heaven thing was just folklore.

Blaine clearly misreads the amount of steps he has between himself and Kurt, unable to put the breaks on his cute canvas boat shoes, he wobbles and then falls into Kurt. Blaine’s wide, and considerably beautiful, brilliant white feathery wings spread and flutter in shock, flapping forward around both of their bodies.

Kurt, completely flabbergasted, trying to carefully swat Blaine’s wings away from his face, looses his balance also and takes Blaine down to the ground with him, Blaine’s wings flattened around their bodies.

“Ow.”

“Yup.”

“Oh my gosh. I am so, so sorry.” Blaine rushes to wriggle himself free, pulls himself up and off of Kurt, his wings flapping uncoordinatedly behind him, trying to stretch themselves back out. “Are you OK?”-

Kurt lifts himself up, pats out the creases in his clothes and subtly tries to bend his staff back into a somewhat straighter position, before self consciously taking a quick glance around.

Strangely enough, to Kurt’s complete surprise nobody’s paying them any attention, not really. There were a few wide eyes and initial gasps before everyone went on

about their business after noting that nobody was badly hurt. It’s not like they could do any greater damage to themselves anyway.

There are students scattered around them, filling the hallways, some with their heads tucked into their lockers, some with their noses buried into last week’s homework. Nobody cares about the keeper and the extremely dorky angel collapsing to the ground in each other’s arms. There are no names called, no humorous slurs, or shoulder shoves. Nobody even cares that they are two guys falling all over each other.

Kurt nods shakily, remembering that Blaine had asked him a question. He closes his mouth and turns back to Blaine, eyes wide and unsure, still in a somewhat state of shock. Not because of the fall, but because of just _Blaine_ _._

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine don’t worry about it. Are you ok? I didn’t um, hurt your uh- your wings did I?” Kurt tries to avert his gaze, makes an awkward hand gesture toward Blaine’s wings, flapping slowly and primly behind him.

He looks at angels everyday, he watches them and glares at them and wonders what makes them so special. But he hasn’t seen anyone like Blaine before, he’s almost too much to look at, too much to handle.

“Yep I’m all good.” Blaine grins, standing tall and straight with his wings held out presentably behind him. “Oh don’t worry about these old things,” Blaine nods over his shoulder. “They can take a beating.” He grins harder, like he’s proud of something and Kurt just doesn’t know what to do or say.

Kurt can see that Blaine is an inch or so shorter than he is, with olive toned skin, strong muscular arms and a trim waist. He’s rather obviously friendly, a real people person, polite, and seemingly happy. Kurt can see why he became an angel. He’s enough to keep anybody’s black clouds away, that and the fact that he’s actually beautiful to look at. Wholly bright and beautiful.

“Hi. So I’m Blaine.” Blaine says softly, his voice melodic. He smiles, holding his hand out to Kurt in greeting.

“Yes, of course you are. I mean um, hey-hi yes I gathered you were Blaine. I’m Kurt.” Kurt takes Blaine’s hand with just minimal hesitation and allows himself a second to get lost in the pure, silky feel of Blaine’s warm skin.

“It’s nice to meet you Kurt. Really.” Blaine is still smiling, and their hands are still joined between their bodies, and Blaine is staring into Kurt’s eyes, searching his face, so pure and kind and deeply genuine.

Kurt would usually squirm under somebody’s scrutiny this way, but with Blaine blinking back at him, searching Kurt’s face and his eyes, Kurt kind of feels like he’s searching his very soul, like he’s looking for more.

“I can’t wait to get to know you, Kurt. I feel like this could be a great pairing.” Blaine is saying quietly, still smiling so innocently, so real and pure.

And for some unknown reason, Kurt actually believes him.

*

The second time they meet is after school that same day at a specially designated afterlife coffee shop, aptly named _Afterlife-Noon Tea,_ complete with a little British style china teacup hanging from the a of the last word. The café is situated just across the street from the school campus and is very thoughtfully decorated. The lighting inside is specifically altered so that it is bright enough for the angels to keep their feathers warm and their spirits bright, but not too bright for the keepers, who often have sensitive skin pigmentation.

There’s an array of tables and an assortment of comfy chairs spread out across the room, with a wafting scent, light and airy, like a clear rain forest mist. The coffee and machines and many shelves of ceramic cups and mugs are of course just for show, though many members of the afterlife often prefer to hold a cup while they sit and talk, read, or listen to the soft mood balancing music flowing through the sound system speakers on the walls. Some things are just second nature, old habits die hard and all.

“...So yeah, I guess I’m just super psyched and grateful that we have these opportunities and these chances to come back and...”

Kurt cradles his empty mug close to his chest, his fingers curling through the looped handle as he blinks back at Blaine sitting across from him on an over-sized beanbag chair. They’ve been here for the best part of an hour now and Blaine has not stopped talking, at all.

There’s just something about this kid that Kurt cannot seem to comprehend. His charming appearance, good manners and etiquette are enough to make anybody swoon, his eyes are so breathtaking and his smile is so wide and bright. But it’s not just his looks that captivate Kurt. It’s the way he talks, the way he is so positive and happy. It’s all a little overwhelming actually; Kurt hasn’t met anybody of this nature or character before. Not somebody who’s actually genuinely nice to him.

When Blaine takes a short pause from talking, smiling casually and looking up and around him, Kurt takes the opportunity to get his head out of the clouds and ask some questions. Wasn’t he supposed to not like this guy or what he stands for or something?

“So um, Blaine. You’re still in school, obviously. You’re new...to afterlife and you don’t have a human to guide, yet. Do you um, do you know why you might already have a keeper? Why you need me- um a keeper?... It’s just a little soon, maybe... don’t you think?”

Blaine lowers his chin, his gaze dropping to meet with Kurt’s; he’s still smiling though it’s a little smaller now, guarded in some way but still warm, his eyes like deep pools of amber filled water. Something passes over his face, some kind of emotion that makes him completely unreadable to Kurt yet at the same time, so open and somewhat yielding.

Kurt has always been a good judge of character, even with angels and their flattering personalities. There’s something there with Blaine, behind those eyes and that smile, something hiding from Kurt, waiting to jump out at him, but try as he might he just can’t place a finger on it.

“I don’t know Kurt.” Blaine eventually answers, seemingly honest, his shoulders shrugging a little and his hands coming up into the air and back down again. “I don’t know why any of this happened, or why it does have to happen to anybody at all, nobody does. But what I do know is that I’ve been taught to trust; it’s in my nature to make light of every situation. And I believe that everything happens for a reason. And for good cause.”

“How do you know that? Why do you believe that?” Kurt challenges, not unkindly just genuinely curious. He leans forward a little in his seat, edging closer against the table ledge, just inches across from Blaine, like his body is compelling him to do so.

“I just do.” Blaine answers simply, smiling his signature smile, he seems so sure. “I’ve been put back here for a reason and so have you and yes, it’s a little premature at this stage but we’re going to find out why, OK?” Kurt eyes him carefully. “Listen, I know you’re unsure Kurt, I can sense your lack of understanding and willingness right now. But we’re going to work this out together, OK? Please, just try and trust me? Let’s see what we can make out of this, together?”

Kurt’s heart has not beaten in his chest since the morning it stopped when he was wrenched from a hunk of crushed up metal and glass. But he could swear that right now he can feel something in his chest, warmth spreading with a steady thump pushing through from somewhere buried deep down inside him. Somewhere long lost and forgotten.

Kurt, momentarily frozen in place, straightens up. He looks deep into Blaine’s eyes, and doesn’t know why, doesn’t know where it comes from when he starts nodding, maybe a little too enthusiastically, uncharacteristically for him. And a whispered “yes” escapes his lips.

The smile he gets in return is almost blinding, like a flash of bright white beaming through him, pure and warm. And Kurt, unable to stop himself smiles back and kind of wants to think of a whole bunch of words he can say to make Blaine smile for him like that again.

*

After that first initial week, the passing days seem to fly over, filled with both Kurt and Blaine getting to know each other to establish their pairing, how to work together and support each other if needed. The awkward song and dance of tiptoeing around each other gets easier and more comfortable to handle with each day that passes until it’s eventually gone completely.

The days eventually turn into weeks which spring into months in almost no time at all and before either of them are able to establish where the time has gone to and how

much they have grown in their pairing and their respective roles, they’re both in perfect sync with each other, slipping into an easy, non questionable routine.

Kurt accompanies Blaine wherever he must; they talk about Blaine’s classes and how he’s settling into afterlife. Though whenever they have these conversations Kurt can’t help but feel that Blaine always seems to redirect the subject to something about Kurt. Such as how is Kurt feeling? What does Kurt want to do? What had Kurt always dreamed of doing or seeing as a child? They’re always questions usually aimed towards things that Kurt considers hopeless or pointless now that he’s a keeper. It all seems pretty irrelevant to Kurt, and sometimes a little difficult to swallow and digest, and he honestly doesn’t know how to react to it most of the time, apart from an awkward giggle or blurting out the first thought that pops in to his head in order to change the conversation.

Nobody has ever taken as much interest in him as Blaine has. Even his father sometimes struggles for the right words to say, but Blaine just _knows_.

Kurt still doesn’t know exactly what it is, that he and Blaine are supposed to be accomplishing here. All they’ve managed to do is successfully learn each other inside out, sliding into a close, comfortable friendship. But it still doesn’t feel like what they’re supposed to be doing in terms or their roles or purposes.

Whenever Kurt has subtly asked Blaine about it, or tried to hint at the subject in some way, Blaine has only ever shrugged him off in his polite Blaine like way, with his megawatt smile and bedazzling eyes. Kurt often feel’s like Blaine should be encouraging them to talk about this stuff, to aim towards Blaine graduating and having his own human to look after.

But with that next stage comes more responsibility and less time spent with each other. Kurt doesn’t quite know if he’s ready for that yet, and therefore finds himself rather glad when Blaine shrugs off his questioning, with answers like; “I’ll get a human  
when the time comes. No rush. Do you want rid of me so fast? Hey look, Catwalk War’s is starting, come sit and watch with me.” All often said with an accompanied wink and a grin.

Kurt admittedly finds it hard not to allow his mind to wander into the realm of what ifs. What if maybe his and Blaine’s friendship is something more, something deeper and more meaningful? What if their pairing is supposed to symbolize something else entirely?

What if that time Blaine had accidentally nudged into Kurt while walking together along the hallway, causing their hands to brush and their hips to bump gently, hadn’t been an accident after all? And then all of those other times after that?

Or that one time when they were sitting in Kurt’s room watching TV. Kurt had leaned over to snag the TV remote at the same time as Blaine, and ended up smoothing his fingers over the fluffy edge of Blaine’s wings, causing an unexpected whimper to fall from Blaine’s pink, pouted lips.

Blaine had then spent the next few minutes in the bathroom. Kurt had dared not think about what he was doing while in there. And he tries not to dare allow himself to explore his wonderings any further.

Kurt knows that he is a different person when Blaine is around. He can feel the change in himself, notices the more positive pattern of his thoughts and his happier outlook. He even catches the glimpse of a smile in the reflection of a store window when he and Blaine are walking by, bumping shoulders. Keeper or not. He knows that Blaine (angel or not) is the reason for this.

He often wishes he could have met Blaine before he had passed, before they both passed. Would things be different? Would he have felt happier and more fulfilled?

Although his deep gut instinct suggests otherwise, Kurt begrudgingly guesses that he’ll really, truly never know. Some things just simply aren’t meant to be.

*

As well as the coffee place, the park where Kurt likes to TT to on a night time and other secluded, random areas of the neighborhood, Kurt’s basement has become one of their favorite hangouts. A quiet, private place for them to hide away after school and talk, or just watch TV or even flick through pointless magazines; they share a lot of the same interests. Kurt’s favorite past time is circling out the centerfold’s model’s flaws with a red marker, or a particular tacky outfit with Blaine squirming and shaking an accusatory finger at him, though he can never hide his amused grin as they giggle and bump shoulders.

After taking Blaine home to introduce him to his dad after their first week of meeting, it became clear that Blaine would be welcomed into their home anytime, any day. Blaine, like almost everybody he meets, had managed to make a lasting impression on Burt within zero time. The moment he left to return to his own parent’s home, Burt started up with the questions.

_So, he seems like a nice kid. You appear to have a lot in common. Do you talk to each other...you know...about stuff? Are you comfortable with him? I can tell that you like him. I’m happy for you Kurt. I’m glad you have a friend, like that, someone you can rely on._

Kurt squirmed and grunted his way through the whole thing, not missing the somewhat hopeful glint in his father’s eyes and the uplifting corners of his mouth.

And only when Burt dropped the dollar million question did Kurt finally slip out from the kitchen table and down to his room without a word.

_Have you heard him sing yet? Have you been to Glee club with him?_

*

 **Blaine** **Angel:**

**So I have Glee club after school today, are you staying around? Would love you to join this time? Just try it, just this once? B x**

Kurt curls his fingers around his cell phone in a deathlike grip. He’s been waiting for this text from Blaine all week. He’s had a similar kind of message from Blaine every week for the past six months that they’ve been paired together.

It’s probably one of the only things that haven’t been discussed between them, something that Kurt hadn’t asked about and Blaine hadn’t offered to talk about.

Kurt thinks he knows pretty much everything else about the guy. Like how Blaine seems to have a pretty impressive taste in clothing and a fancy for tight pants and bowties. When he had an appetite he used to have a pretty big sweet tooth and shared Kurt’s love of desserts. His guilty pleasures are eighties soap drama’s and soft, rock- pop anthems. He’s eleven months younger than Kurt, or rather he was before he passed. And Kurt knows, _he knows_ that it is not polite to laugh or even smile when somebody is sharing the story of how they joined afterlife, but even Blaine giggled his way through retelling how he was just too short to reach up for that last tub of hair gel, and how was he supposed to know that the shelving wasn’t reinforced?

Kurt knows that this has been coming, that Blaine would eventually expect him to accompany him to Glee club at some point, like he has all of his classes, and would want to talk about it. But like the gentleman he is, for the first few months he had happily accepted Kurt’s excuse as to why he couldn’t attend with him. Kurt’s contentedness has always seemed to override Blaine’s own somehow.

With a scrunch of his eyes, somehow willing himself the power to sum up some courage and say what he feels, Kurt thumbs out a quick reply.

**Kurt:  
I’ll wait for you. I can’t join today. **

Simple and easy. No need to explain any further, he can just wait in the keepers lounge until Blaine is done, then afterward he can escort him home or back to his basement to cackle at reruns, or whatever keeper/angel stuff he and Blaine are supposed to be doing at this stage.

 **Blaine** **Angel:  
Sure you can join. Just come sit in the back. Sit with me! I’ll keep you company ;) **

_Of course you will,_ Kurt thinks. But, of course it wouldn’t be that easy. There’s probably only so many times that he can deflect this situation.

**Kurt:  
No I can’t. I’m sorry. **

There’s a strange, unnecessary ache in his chest as he types the words. Kurt has never felt the need to apologize to anybody before, only his dad. But with Blaine, he hates the feeling that he could be disappointing him. He doesn’t want that.

 **Blaine** **Angel:  
Yes you can. You’re my keeper and I want you there. Please, just trust me. **

Kurt’s chest feels like it sinks in on itself, his shoulders sagging, his body deflating into submission as he cradles his phone tight and sweaty in his grasp and tries to keep himself upright against a closed classroom door.

This is what it feels like, this is what it is supposed to be like when a keeper is given his orders, given his duties and is expected to fulfill them. This is his purpose now, to follow around a preppy angel like some kind of lapdog. He should have expected this coming sooner, though he didn’t think Blaine was like that; he kind of forgot for a while the whole reason for their becoming friends.

It’s not good enough that Kurt lost his rights as a person and a performer, apparently he doesn’t fit the bill enough to sing and dance and compete, but he can sit and watch while Blaine does? That just doesn’t sit right with him.

Though it is strange, because although this would ordinarily be the case with any other keeper/angel pairing; there’s still something different about Kurt and Blaine’s situation. There is still something that Kurt can’t quite put his finger on about Blaine and his ways.

It’s been six months since Kurt met Blaine and in that time they seem to have merged into a close friend status rather seamlessly. If Kurt is completely honest, the impact of their friendship has mostly been Blaine’s doing, with his eagerness and positive goodwill attitude in all that he does. Though Kurt is not complaining.

It’s just strange and also a little funny, because as much as Kurt is supposed to be the keeper, the one responsible for guiding Blaine and keeping an eye on him; it often feels like the roles are reversed. That Blaine is the one taking care of Kurt, somehow.

And no matter how mad Kurt wants to be at Blaine right now, or how much he wants to dig his heels into the ground and refuse to join Blaine in his stupid Glee club- he kind of gets the feeling that he really should go. Just to see, just to try. It’s those words of trust that Blaine chooses to use, like some kind of a spell casting over Kurt.

The whole thing is very unnerving, yet Kurt still finds himself squinting back down at his phone, swiping open the lock screen, and keying in a quick reply. He can feel, he somehow _knows_ that this is something expected of him that could actually pay off, something that could actually work. He must trust. He must try.

**Kurt:  
Ok. Yeah, ok. **

*

That afternoon, after the last class of the day, Kurt paces up down the corridor outside of the Glee Club choir room. He tightly clasps his staff within his white knuckled hold against his chest, though mindful of the buttons on his pinstriped vest, and the knot of his carefully tucked polka dot cravat.

It’s still important to him to take pride in his appearance. He hasn’t missed the way that Blaine will carefully look over his chosen clothes for the day, when they meet each morning in the school parking lot. Like he’s drinking him in, appreciating Kurt for all that he is and not just the striking pale bone structure of his face.

As the small crowd of kids lingering around their lockers starts to diminish and the students file out of the hallways and out of the main school doors to freedom for the day, Kurt can see Blaine approaching from the far end of the hallway.

His dark hair carefully slicked back, those thick, pointed eyebrows trimmed and groomed into place, that smile, _god_ that smile so wide and bright and just a little crooked, and directed at _him_ when they catch eyes. Kurt sometimes feels like he is the only person in the world when Blaine looks at him. His gaze always lingers a little too long, something that could be categorized as somewhat inappropriate, but with Kurt it’s different. There’s something in Blaine’s stare and in his smile that seeps through Kurt and manages to warm his lifeless body right through to his very core. Kurt is pretty sure, that if he were still living and breathing, Blaine would be capable of stealing the air from his lungs every damn day, and then be able to bring him back to life again with just the sizzling zap of his touch alone.

Blaine slows down until he’s standing in front of Kurt, hands at his sides as he bounces excitedly up on his tiptoes. He’s dressed gorgeously as usual, in a burgundy polo, matched with a fudge brown with fine, dark red and green striped bowtie and dark green pants, clinging to his powerful thighs. His wings are spread out elegantly behind him, arranged carefully so that that the tanned leather over-shoulder strap of his messenger bag doesn’t get in the way.

“Hey. You ready?” Blaine asks, his eyes slowly roaming over Kurt’s face, like they always seem to do, like he’s searching, carefully deliberating. It’s kind of like Blaine already knows the answer but wanted to ask out of courtesy anyway.

Kurt nods slowly; it’s all he can do.

With Blaine pressed to his side, as if knowing that his warm, tanned skin brushing against Kurt’s is enough to give him the courage he needs to pass over the threshold, together they step into the choir room.

*

“So, are you coming again next week? I might even sing for you next time.” Blaine’s smile is energetic, full of life and hope. Kurt tries not to be pulled in by his unfairly attractive, stupid smiling face. He lets the shortest of smiles slip onto his lips before he shrugs one shoulder, returning his features to something a little more passive.

“Ok,” Blaine tries again. “Do not tell me that you hated it. I saw your foot tapping against the floor and your cute, little head bop. You liked it.” Blaine sing songs at him, pointing his finger.

They’re in Kurt’s room, Blaine sitting primly on the chaise longue with crossed legs, hands clasped neatly in front of him and wings flopping back and down lazily behind him. He’s in what Kurt likes to call his ‘relax mode’ with his shirt un-tucked from his pants and his bow tie hanging loosely from both sides of his neck.

Kurt lifts his head up from where it’s resting on a teal duck feathered down cushion, down on the floor where he’s sprawled himself out, face up. They’ve not long been home from school after Glee and Kurt has been enjoying the peace and quiet, knowing that it wouldn’t last forever.

“I never said that I hated it or wouldn’t like it. That’s not why I said I couldn’t join, Blaine.” Kurt keeps his voice quiet but his tone firm; he lifts his gaze to Blaine’s but doesn’t let their eye contact linger, too afraid to fall under the golden spell of Blaine’s eyes.

“I know.” Blaine counters, keeping his tone light and playful, like always. “I never implied for you to actually join, as in join the club, all singing and dancing. Although that that would be great and you could...” He pauses with a flick of his eyes towards Kurt but doesn’t give him the chance to interrupt. “I just wanted you to come with me. You’re welcome to come anytime. I liked having you there. Really.”

Kurt offers Blaine a small, contemplating smile in return. _I liked being with you, there, here...anywhere._ He let’s their eyes meet just for a glance and then flattens himself back down onto the cushion again. “Well you’ve had your wish, I came, I saw, that’s it. Done.”

Blaine makes a sound of protest and Kurt arches an eyebrow. “Come on Blaine, we both know that I’m not supposed to be there...”

“Says who? Did anybody in that room look like they had a problem with you being there? Come on, the humans don’t really care about us, they don’t see us any differently...”

“You know that’s not the point Blaine.”

  
“So what is the point? What do _you_ think is the point, Kurt? I’m _dying_ to know.”

“HA-HA.”

  
“I’m serious. Why do you believe that you’re uninvited to Glee...”

  
“I’m not joining, Blaine. Even if I was invited- which I’m not.”

“But you _are._ You could...”

When Kurt rises back up to a sitting position to look back up at Blaine after he trails off, he finds him looking thoughtful with his head tilted to the side, staring straight past Kurt toward the back wall which is plastered with old clippings, photographs and many other memorabilia from Kurt’s old actual _living_ life.

Kurt grits his teeth. He knows what Blaine is getting at, he doesn’t have to ask. But he does anyway. “Why do you care so much?”

“Kurt.” Blaine slowly unfurls himself and rises from the bed, dropping to his knees lightly and settling just a few feet away from Kurt. His hands flutter in the air momentarily like they want to reach out and take hold of Kurt, to touch him and comfort him in someway, but in the end Blaine settles for placing them over his knees. “You know that you...”

“I’m a Keeper, Blaine.” Kurt says firmly as if that is reason enough, his tone a deep warning that this conversation is unwanted. He turns his head away and dips his chin, careful not to catch Blaine eyes, as he draws his knees up close to his chest and wraps his arms around them. The beginning of the ‘Kurt Hummel close-off routine’.

Of course that doesn’t stop Blaine. He rises a little on his knees, twisting his torso and arching his neck so that he can still look at Kurt as best he can. “I know that we haven’t talked about this much, but y-you know that it means nothing right...”

“It _does._ It means something to _me._ ” Kurt finally looks at Blaine, his eyes like gunmetal shining so fiercely, under the dampened overhead lights of his room.

Blaine looks at Kurt carefully, his lip twitching. His voice is soft and gentle when he finally whispers. “Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you have going on up there...” He tentatively raises a finger to softly tap at Kurt’s temple, before Kurt jerks himself away, an automatic reaction when anyone comes too close.

It takes all Kurt has in him not to lose it. He stands on shaking legs, bracketing himself within the tight hold of his arms, struggling over the impulse to TT the hell out of there. Blaine immediately follows, rising with him, his wings extended protectively behind him, like they’re on guard or something, like they’re ready to wrap around both of their bodies together and keep them from the harsh realities of the world. Or what Kurt thinks is his world.

“I don’t think. I _know_ Blaine. I am not good enough, I am not accepted. Never was. Never will be. No matter what the hell I look like. Or Am.”

“Finally.” Is all Blaine says after a beat, and it sounds more like a sigh of relief than anything. He sounds and looks almost strangely happy about Kurt’s little outburst. Though when Kurt looks at him, he looks torn, his eyes sad and lips arched downwards.

“What are you talking about?” Kurt looks dumbfounded, staring at Blaine and then down at his wings as they twitch and flicker, something clearly unfurling within Blaine that’s causing his emotions to heighten and his wings to react.

“You finally admitted something. Something real and truthful.” Blaine replies, with a rueful smile. Kurt is not catching on; it’s aggravating him. How can Blaine seem both happy and sad?

“Blaine what the...”

“Kurt, haven’t you ever wondered what we’ve been doing here all of these months? I know you’ve asked, but I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t know, not then. But I think I’ve figured it out now.” He pauses, carefully watching Kurt try and gage his reaction. Kurt looks like a deer caught in the headlights, the sculpted filmy outlines of his cheek bones and jaw line, pulsing with life, becoming more opaque as his mind ticks over, tiny pieces falling into place.

Blaine takes a careful step towards him. “I haven’t been assigned a human, yet you were assigned to me. We hang out everyday; you are the most interesting person I’ve ever met. You fascinate me, you inspire me, so much and I just love being with you, learning from you and sharing your space.”

“Blaine...”

“Every time I see you smile it’s like something inside me lights up. Having you in Glee club next to me today, sensing how happy you were to be there, it really made me feel something I’ve never experienced before. It’s like I don’t feel the same sense of purpose with humans as I do when I’m with you. It’s not supposed to be like that, I don’t think...”

“What are you saying Blaine?”

“I’m your angel Kurt. I _have_ to be. I’m yours. I’m here to guide you, don’t you see that now?”

Kurt’s eyes widen and glaze over, overwhelmed. He doesn’t know how he should be feeling. “Why? That- _this_ just doesn’t happen. I’m a keeper, I have to guide _you,_ that’s the whole point of this freaking thing. Why do I have to be so different in this life too? What makes you so sure about this?”

“Because you’re special, Kurt. You needed someone or something that you didn’t even know you needed or why. But here’s your second chance. Here I am, Kurt. I’ll always be here, for you.”

Kurt continues to stare at him, unblinking. His body as hard and still as rock, hands fisted at his sides, his face, thick and sculpted pale gray and starch white bones, beautifully crafted into something so serious looking.

“Kurt. Before you passed, it didn’t matter what or who you were into, not even how you dressed or what music you liked or how your voice sounded. And now in afterlife, it still doesn’t matter. You’re a keeper, but you’re still you. You’re still just as great and just as special...”

“So why wasn’t I made an angel? Have I really sinned that much just by being who I was born to be?” Kurt asks, his voice so small with downcast eyes that Blaine almost doesn’t catch it.

“Kurt...” Blaine’s voice catches. All he wants is to reach out and take Kurt in his arms, but doesn’t want to scare him away. He wishes he could take away all of his

hurt and bad memories from his past. He wishes he could banish anybody who ever said a wrong word to Kurt or laid an unkind hand on him.

He focuses all of his attention on to the broken boy standing in front of him. “Why do you have to label yourself like that? That has nothing to do with it. It’s a different world now. You’ve built up this whole stigma in your head, that keepers can’t do what the rest of us can. You want the truth? Straight up, you can do whatever the heck you want to do; even if you were an angel you still would have done things your own way and found something to complain about. Because you’re you and you’re bigger and better than any of us. Period. No names, no labels, just you.”

Kurt can’t even try to pretend to look at least a little put out by Blaine’s words. He’s in shock, stunned to silence. He can’t believe what Blaine is saying right now. How much he actually _gets_ him, how his irises are glowing and his wings are spreading determinately behind with each carefully spoken word.

Kurt never thought that he would meet anybody who would speak to him or fight for him or just plain _like_ him the way Blaine does, so fierce and loyal and undeniably raw and honest _._

“You never took the time to continue doing what you loved or being who you wanted to be after you passed. You never realized that it doesn’t make a damn difference. This whole angel-keeper thing? Come on, it’s just some romanticized notion or whatever. As long as the humans are following their correct life paths and we are overseeing that, nobody cares.”

Blaine pauses, tentatively reaching out to take Kurt’s hand in his, and flattens the palm of his other hand over the top. Kurt’s eyes snap open to Blaine’s, his lips parted into the perfect O shape. Blaine’s face is so open, his eyes so wide and bright, so full of emotion and...hope?

“Let me show you Kurt. Let me show you what the afterlife could be like for you. Open up, let me in. Trust me, please. Believe me, I need this just as much.”

Kurt could crumble right there on the spot. If Blaine pleads with him and asks Kurt to trust him one more time, then Kurt thinks he could quite possible melt into a puddle.

“What’s my purpose, then? What am I supposed to do?” Kurt whispers. And out of all the words Blaine was expecting him to barrage him with, those were not part of the selection.

“Your purpose is to be happy Kurt. Just be happy.” Blaine unclasps their hands and is oh so careful when he raises a finger to brush the back of it over one of Kurt’s hauntingly beautiful silhouetted cheekbones. “Trust me, nobody cares. And I don’t give a damn about anybody but you! No matter what you think, you’re important. To me, you’re everything.”

“I had always hoped...” Kurt trails off, his voice so small and shaky, words rasped and caught in his throat as he stares so meaningfully down into Blaine’s eyes.

Blaine’s hands travel down to Kurt’s neck, curling around him tightly, possessively...almost lovingly? Kurt swallows. “I-I thought all hope was gone...”

Blaine’s lips press to Kurt’s so soft and gentle, causing the words to die right there on Kurt’s tongue. Kurt had never felt anything divine or holy or heavenly when he passed, he never saw the light or heard the hark of the angels or whatever. But right now, with Blaine’s, _his very own angel,_ hands on his body and his mouth on his, warm and wet, inviting and oh so right, Kurt suddenly feels his purpose. He feels his own dead and gone life pulse wildly through his redundant veins and he feels a steady thump, thumping in his chest.

He smiles against Blaine’s lips, opens his own and then invites Blaine in again and again. “I always somehow knew that I was waiting for something else from this life. I always thought it was hopeless to let myself think...b-but now, here you are.”

“I’m here.” Blaine whispers against Kurt’s mouth, grinning too. “I’m here.” “Finally.”

_Fin!  
_

_*_

_-Dr Seuss_

_“Today you are you_

_that is truer than true._

_There is no one alive_

_who is youer than you”_

 

 

 


End file.
